Marie Ferrarella - One Plus One Makes Marriage

So intense that they looked capable of seeing straight into a man’s mind.

Now there was a stupid thought, Lance upbraided himself. Where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t here to scrutinize eyes; he was here to judge whether or not her premises were safe for the public that entered them. If they weren’t, he had the power to shut her down. If they were, he was to move on. Simple.

“And the way I operate,” he continued, rousing himself, “is by the book.”

A “by-the-book” man. She’d already guessed that part herself. Melanie wondered just how long he’d been on the job and what it would take to make him smile. She bet he had a really nice smile if he made the effort.

Her mouth curved, as if to coax a mimicking response from him. Maybe he just needed some encouragement and an example to follow. “And the book says you can’t erase a check mark after you made it?”

His eyes narrowed again. “Only if I made it in error.”

She placed her hands on the dolly’s red handles, her indication clear. All it would take was a few minutes, the time to juggle a little space. “Well?”

Lance knew if he bent the rules for her, he’d have to bend them for everyone. He wasn’t about to do that. Besides, in the long run, he was doing her a favor. She couldn’t afford to be haphazard when it came to the possibilities of a fire. No one could.

He shook his head. “No error. The check stays. As do these.” Moving closer to her, he pointed out several other lines he’d marked off. The scent of something light and airy wafted around him. Was that her, or something in the store, he wondered. There was something very old-fashioned about the scent. It nudged at a memory that was too far removed to catch.

“Where’s John Kelly?” Melanie asked suddenly.

“Not here,” was the only answer Lance felt she needed to know. “But I am, and you’re going to have to deal with the consequences of your flagrant disregard for your customers’ safety—and make amends.”

He made it sound like an ultimatum. She almost expected him to add, “Or get out of Dodge.”

Something egged her on to ask, “Or else what?”

She was challenging him, he thought. Not a smart move. “People who don’t follow fire ordinances find themselves shut down.”

Melanie stared at him in disbelief. Was he actually saying what she thought he was saying? “You’d shut me down?”

“Not personally, but that would be the upshot.”

It wouldn’t go that far. Confident that she could handle this to everyone’s satisfaction, Melanie indulged the burst of curiosity she was experiencing. It wasn’t often she encountered someone so solemn and self-righteous. What was his story? Everyone had a story, and she found herself wanting to know his. He wouldn’t give it up easily. He was the type to guard his privacy zealously. She’d always been a sucker for the forbidden.

“Tell me, Lance,” Melanie began, and saw a wary look entering the fire inspector’s eyes, “what does it take for you to do something personally?”

Chapter Two

The question took him aback.

Was she making him an offer she thought he couldn’t refuse in exchange for eliminating the violations? His first answer to himself would have been yes, but there was something in her eyes that made him unsure. Lance didn’t know exactly what to make of the woman in front of him, then decided it didn’t matter one way or the other. His job description was clear.

In one smooth movement he signed his name to the bottom of the report. Finished, he spared her a glance.

“A lot more than anything I find here,” he said tersely, in response to her question. Pulling the sheet from his clipboard, he handed it to her. “I’d see to this fine if I were you.”

She was still looking at him as if the fine and the violations that generated them were secondary to her. As if there was something else on her mind, something that, for whatever unfathomable reason, had to do with him. Maybe it was childish of him, but he’d be damned if he was going to look away first.

“That is, if you don’t want to be closed down,” Lance emphasized again.

Two women in separate parts of the store turned around immediately. Lance had no idea that he’d raised his voice until one of them asked, “Closing?” Her eyes were almost glowing as she looked around the cozy setting. “Does that mean you’re going to be having a closing sale?”

“No, and we’re not closing, either.” Melanie offered the woman an easy smile. Turning, she shared the smile with Lance. The look he returned was grim. “The gentleman was talking about closing time. We plan to stay right here for a very long time.” She gave that assurance to Lance as well as to the customers in the store.

Lance used the interruption to look away from her. He had the oddest, queasiest feeling when she’d been looking at him, almost as if she were offering him sympathy. It was a completely ridiculous idea, but he couldn’t seem to shake it.

Lance handed her the citation form. “Then I’d see about those violations if I were you. You have thirty days to get to them.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm and turned to leave.

“Does that mean you’ll be back?” she asked as he walked away.

“I’ll be back,” he assured her, though he wasn’t looking forward to it, he added silently as he got to the door. Behind him he heard the scraping sound as she pushed the dolly under the stack of boxes.

“I’ll be waiting.”

She sounded almost cheerful about it, he thought. This visit obviously hadn’t gone well. Why would she welcome another one?

More scraping noise. Somehow, he managed to hear it above the soft music and the low hum of voices in the shop. Lance had an uneasy feeling that he knew what the McCloud woman was up to. Not his business if the slip of a woman wanted to get a hernia or worse, he thought again. The tiny bell overhead tinkled softly as he opened the front door, announcing his exit. The sound seemed to mock him. But he was here to do an inspection, not help her clear away one of her violations. That was the job of whatever poor unfortunate slob she corralled.

Lance liked to think he would have made it out the door if the beveled glass hadn’t caught her reflection and flashed it up at him in an almost blinding light. But it did, and his mistake, he realized too late, was to stop and look.

As he’d thought, she was trying to get the dolly under the first pile of crates by herself. Straw had more sense than she did.

For a second he debated leaving her to it, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, just keep walking. Aunt Bess had trained him all too well. With a sigh, Lance let the door go and marched back to the annoyingly cheerful woman in the rear of the store.

Melanie could feel a bead of perspiration beneath her bangs as she fought to angle the dolly into position beneath the crates. Another woman would have given up, but another woman wouldn’t have wanted to run this sort of shop, either. A place where people came to talk, as much as to buy.

She should have let the delivery man do at least this part of it, Melanie thought, brushing back her bangs before they pasted themselves to her forehead. That’s what she got for being softhearted. Not that she really could be any other way. She’d accepted that as part of her nature a long time ago. Some people moved the earth with muscle, others did it with a smile. She chose to take the second path, although she prided herself on being no slouch when it came to strength. She just never muscled in on people, that’s all.

Straining, she finally managed to get the platform solidly beneath the bottom crate. Melanie was just beginning to brace herself before attempting to hoist the load when she felt the elbow in her side. It wasn’t a gentle nudge, more like an out-and-out takeover.